Music Box
by Ashley6
Summary: Can a simple music box help give one of our agents solace when the other dies?


Title: Music Box  
Author: Mulder's Feet  
Rating: PG  
Archive: Contact me first.  
Spoilers: Beyond the Sea, The Host, One Breath, Millennium (nothing too bad really)  
Classification: Vignette/Angst  
Disclaimer: No, they're not mine, even though I wish that Mulder and Scully were mine. Unfortunately, they belong to Chris Carter, and they're his forever. Darn.  
Author's Notes: I was in a sad mood when I wrote this. Nuff said.  
Summary: After Mulder loses Scully for the last time, he must look to one of her belongings for comfort.  
Feedback: I love it! Please do send feedback!  
Website: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/xfilesluver  
  
***********  
Part 1  
  
The dining room was decorated with pink and green crepe paper and the smells of birthday cake filled the room. Just hovering under the ceiling was a banner that read "Happy Birthday Dana". The birthday girl, now-seven-year-old Dana Scully, sat at the head of the table, a privilege only allowed at birthdays, as William Scully, Sr. had always sat at the head of the table. Dana kneeled in the chair, her face over the homemade birthday cake. As her family sang the familiar tune of "Happy Birthday", she thought of what she was going to wish for, maybe a pony, maybe a new Barbie doll. Anything that was important to a seven-year-old.   
  
After the song was sung, the wishes made, and the candles blown out, Mrs. Scully went into her bedroom to retrieve her daughter's gifts. Dana got every wish--except the pony. Well, it didn't matter that much anyway. But there was still one box that was left unopened. The little red-haired girl immediately saw it and made a beeline to it; she was quite surprised when she opened, it was a wooden box with a beautiful design of mountains and trees with a built-in lock and an old-fashioned key. Under the box was a knob, and Dana wounded it up until it couldn't be anymore. Finally, she took the key and opened the box, and it played music. A soft melody; it was pretty in Dana's opinion. At the bottom of the box, there was a note: "To my Starbuck."   
  
She ran over to her father, sitting in the chair smiling, and climbed into his lap, whispering "Thank you Ahab."  
*************  
  
Mulder's cell phone jolted him out of this beautiful dream. But why had this dream been Scully's seventh birthday? How was he able to imagine it with such detail? What had it been trying to tell him? From past experiences, dreams that he'd had was always been a premonition of some sort. What premonition was this dream?  
  
He reached over and grabbed the cell phone, half-wishing that it would be his partner on the other line. But then, why would she call at that hour at night? From looking across the dark room to his microwave, Mulder saw that it was 12:51 am. Scully would have been sleep at that time, unless it was an emergency situation.  
  
"Mulder," he said groggily into the mouthpiece, half expecting Scully's usual "Mulder, it's me" on the other side.  
  
The reply wasn't "Mulder, it's me." The replier wasn't even Scully.  
  
The replier had been Skinner, barking into the phone, "Mulder, I need to see you now at Georgetown Hospital."  
  
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Part 2  
  
Mulder felt scared that his dream really had been a premonition of some sort. He feared his fate, Scully's fate. His boss's voice had been one of seriousness and urgency, but somewhere in there, Mulder thought that he heard fear, sadness, maybe even grief. He desperately hoped that he'd heard wrong; that when it was all done and over with, everything would be alright.   
  
With all of the energy he could muster at one in the morning, Mulder threw on a t-shirt and sweatpants, taking his gun and holster. After all, it *was* one in the morning. He headed out of his apartment, going downstairs to his car, and taking it across the Potomac to Georgetown Hospital. Everything had been a blur to him; he just hoped that his dream hadn't meant anything accept the fact that he had a very vivid imagination.  
  
All of his previous hopes had been shattered when he reached the medical center.   
  
After going through the regular ward, he soon found Skinner, his demeanor showing one of sorrow and grief.  
  
"Agent Mulder," he addressed him, looking Mulder straight in the eye.  
  
"Sir, what's wrong?" Mulder had wanted to know what was going on; he'd been left in the dark too many times in the past.  
  
"Agent Scully is down. The doctors don't know... what to do." Skinner said, trying to comprehend the situation himself. He couldn't believe that one of his agents was down, not from work, but something as senseless as a drunk driver. Skinner had always held the spot of being almost a father-figure to the FBI agents. Many a time, he'd bailed them out when they were in trouble, risking himself at the same time.   
  
But it was different this time; there was no way he could bail Scully out of her trouble.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
Part 3  
  
Upon hearing the news, Mulder's first impulse was to go out and find the person that had put Scully in this state, but to him, it wouldn't be enough. He needed Scully there with him, at all times. And Skinner knew it.  
  
His second impulse, of course had been to see Scully. Knowing that his second option was more realistic, he performed that action.  
  
"I want to see Scully." He said it flat out. No wavering voices, no quivering lower lips. Mulder knew that he needed to be strong for Scully.  
  
Skinner first opened his mouth to warn Mulder that Scully had looked considerably bad, and her condition was critical, but he shut his mouth because he knew that his words would go right through Mulder's ear and out the other. He didn't care, he just wanted to see her. "She's in room 305."  
  
Up the stairs Mulder went, his boss following close behind. He soon found room 305, a private room. The FBI agent immediately saw his partner, covered in cuts and bruises, machines and ventilators surrounding her, much like he'd seen her years before, after being kidnapped and abducted. Next to the bed was Margaret Scully, sitting in the chair, holding her daughter's hand. Mulder's heart went out to Mrs. Scully, as Dana was the only daughter she had left; he'd felt it was his fault, but Scully had always told him it wasn't.  
  
"Fox?" Mrs. Scully looked up from her daughter to him. He fliched; he wasn't all that used to being called Fox. The sight of the mother and daughter almost brought tears to his eyes, considering the circumstances. But he remained in his vow to stay strong.  
  
"Do they know what's wrong with Scully?" Mulder tripped over his own words, not really believing what was going on. It couldn't be, he thought. Not Scully, not my Scully. He started to pray to whoever was above, whoever would listen. Not Scully, not now. Not Scully, not now.  
  
"Dr. Adams said that the accident was pretty bad... she said that Dana was in a coma, had massive head trauma, broken ribs..." Mrs. Scully couldn't go on any longer describing the extent of Dana's injuries. As she broke down in tears, she had said, "Dana was coming from my house. I told her to stay the night because it was late, but I let her go anyway."  
  
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Part 4  
  
Mulder's heart went out to his partner's mother. She truly thought that it had been her fault that Scully had been in a car accident, but it wasn't. "Mrs. Scully," he started firmly, but even trying to get those two words out of his mouth was difficult. "It wasn't your fault. Not at all; it was that bastard that had been drinking and then went out driving."  
  
After her tears had subsided, Maggie Scully had blurted out, "I can't help but to think that if I had coaxed her to stay at my house... she wouldn't be in this position right now."  
  
He didn't seem that it was his place at that moment, but Mulder embraced Mrs. Scully in a hug anyway. After a few minutes in that position, she had been the first to break the hug. "I'm going to get coffee, Fox." And with that, she left the room, but no before looking back at her daughter, Dana, and saying a prayer to herself.  
  
Mulder had then pulled up another chair and sat down next to Scully. He grabbed her hand, and held it tight, as if it were his only lifeline. "Scully, please don't go now. I need you here, and I don't think that I could possibly go on without you. The quest for my sister, for finding out *the truth*, had really turned into a quest for you. I can't begin to describe it, but it was there. Always. Scully, please don't leave me. I really need you, and I don't know if I really can go without you. Please don't go Scully."   
  
For the first time that night, Mulder broke down in tears.  
*****************  
  
He fell asleep next to Scully's bedside, and stayed there all night. Skinner had left the hospital after witnessing Mulder's monologue to Scully. Skinner always knew that Mulder and Scully had a special connection, and he also knew that Mulder would not be able to go on without Scully. Even he knew that she was his lifeline. Mrs. Scully had went home for awhile, only to return at about six in the morning. She ended up depressing herself even more by looking at pictures of her daughters together, thus bringing even more painful memories of Melissa to mind.  
  
Mulder awoke when he felt a slight squeeze at his hand. Without letting go, he immediately stood up to look at Scully, to see if she had come out of her coma. Her face didn't look any different, but Mulder had felt the squeeze again. Was Scully coming to? He looked closely at her face... and was that... a little smile he saw?  
  
"Scully? Are you awake?" he whispered, praying she was in fact alive. "Scully? Scully?" That tiny smile, was in fact a smile, and it was still there. He felt Scully's hand squeeze his hand one more time, this one being the strongest of them all.  
  
And then she coded.  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
Part 5  
  
"Mr. Mulder, we're sorry. We've done all that we can for her."  
  
Those two sentences would forever ring out in Mulder's head; the two sentences he'd thought he'd never hear in his entire lifetime. But he'd heard them, not really believing them. Scully couldn't be dead, he though. She just couldn't. In his mind, the thought of his partner being dead, let alone the thought actually being a reality, never existed.   
  
Mulder couldn't face anybody at that moment. Not his boss, whom he had to call. Not her mother, who he also had to call, no, not call, see. It would have been too hard to tell Mrs. Scully that her second daughter had died also, with her believing that she was the cause of it. But first, he had to see Scully.  
  
When he reached her room, he saw Scully, looking as if she were only sleep. She was peaceful, no longer having to endure the storms that this cold and cruel world constantly offered.  
  
He reached for her hand, which was still warm. Even this tiny fact made his heart wrench. He thought back to the good and bad times they'd had, the times that had made both of them strong, not only independently strong, but strong as a team. The times when both agents had landed in a hospital somehow entered Mulder's mind, as well as their kiss. It had been electrifying, it had been just perfect. And he'd been looking forward to more, but now, in this situation, that didn't seem possible.  
  
The FBI agent then leaned over and kissed his partner's scarred forehead, always beautiful to him. No words of wisdom before he left her. Just the feeling of closure.   
  
Closure that would never really be.  
  
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Part 6  
  
Scully's funeral had been small; only family and close friends came out. Mulder still couldn't get himself to believe that it was his partner, his best friend, lying there in the casket. It seemed that every time that he looked up, he would will Scully to pop up, exclaiming that she was alive and well.  
  
But it never happened.  
  
The hardest part had been the burial. How could they just bury his best friend? His lifeline? The one he couldn't live without? Mulder still had it in his mind that Scully was still alive, but that was true. She would always remain alive in his mind, the images he'd painted of her danced through his mind. It was really hard for him.  
  
Mulder had found himself in a daze, as if this were some horrible dream and within time, he'd wake up, go to work, and see the short, slender red-head in his office waiting for him. Waiting for him with another outlandish X-File, ready for some alien-chasing, conspiracy-uncovering, and flukeman-finding. He really wished that he would just wake up.  
  
He never did though.  
********************  
  
Some time after, Mulder found himself working on the X-Files as he'd always done, despite Skinner's objections for him to take time off. He'd found that working kept his mind off of Scully, or rather the fact that she wasn't alive. Scully had always been on his mind; her image, the things that he would say to her. But having Scully on his mind now just set him into a deeper depression.  
  
At his apartment one night, his phone rang. Who else would have called him besides Scully, he asked himself.  
  
"Mulder."  
  
"Fox?" Mulder knew immediately that it was her mother. She was the only person who ever called him Fox.  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Scully?" It was difficult to talk to her, for more reasons than just one.  
  
"Can you come to my apartment?"  
  
He didn't exactly know how to answer that question. After racking his mind for an answer, he finally answered "Yes."  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
Part 7  
  
On the way to Baltimore, Mulder couldn't help but to think that Scully might still have been alive. The thought of conspiracies and cover-ups had entered his mind, the thought of that chain-smoking snake. Both thoughts made him shudder.  
  
Upon arriving at the Baltimore apartment, Mulder was incredibly anxious. He didn't know what to expect or what to believe. He still only remotely believed that his partner was deceased. This was only her mother, he said to himself, what could she have done?  
  
"It's open" was the answer received when he knocked at the door. Mulder slowly turned the knob to open the door, and he found Margaret Scully sitting on her sofa, with a box and key in front of her. When Mulder looked closer, he saw that it was the same box covered in mountains and trees from his dream. His dream of Scully's seventh birthday party.  
  
"Fox, I want you to have this." She handed the box to him along with the old-fashioned key. "This was Dana's, and when she moved out of the house, she left her music box that her father had given her for her seventh birthday. She said something about me being able to take better care of it. But I think that you'll have the best safekeeping fo all." Maggie looked Mulder right in his eyes, and he was overcome by them for a moment before regaining his composure.  
  
He was speechless. This music box was given to Scully by her father, how could he take it? He thought that he didn't even remotely deserve it, though Mrs. Scully had other ideas in mind.  
  
Her motherly instinct kicked in, she instantly knew that Mulder was feeling uneasy. "It's okay. I want you to have it, and I think that Dana would want you to have it also."  
  
Mulder still flinched at the mention of Scully's name; he'd been having a hard time trying to cope. But he tried the best he could, all the time... for Scully.  
  
He looked the box over, it was an exact replica of the one he dreamt of, only this one was the real one. The box had valleys and mountain ranges painted on it, it had trees painted on it, and took on a decidedly Eastern look. The houses also painted on it had the curves on the roofs, as the houses did in some parts of Asia. All of that against a black background. Mulder thought it was beautiful. At the bottom of the box, there was a tiny knob in which Mulder wound up until it stopped. Nothing happened.  
  
After playing with the box a bit more, Mulder mumbled a feeble "Goodbye" in the direction of Mrs. Scully and left.  
  
Taking the box with him.  
  
------------------------------------------------  
Part 8  
  
Once at home, Mulder toyed with the box a bit more before opening it. He put the key in the hole, and with a few turns, the top of the box was opened. The music poured out of it, the same tune that he'd heard in his dream about Scully. It was a beautiful melody.  
  
The music sounded like that it was straining to get out, but Mulder attributed that to the fact that the box was several decades old. Inside the box were a few necklaces, a few sets of earrings, a bag full of Japanese yen, and two notes. On the outside of one, it read "To Dana and *only* Dana... "  
  
Mulder had to smile at it, as he'd known that Scully had had a lot of siblings that would probably go through her belongings. "From Sarah... this is top-secret!" From reading that, Mulder didn't dare open the note, not that he'd originally had the intention to. Though, he did wonder who Sarah was, and if she knew...  
  
The second note was strikingly familiar; it read "To my Starbuck". It was the note from her father for her birthday. His thoughts went back to his dream, and how Scully had jumped into her father's lap. Now, he truly knew how hard it had been for her when her father died.  
  
Through the entire time when he went through the box, Mulder noticed that the music had played the entire time. When he closed the box, he again noted that the music was beautiful.  
  
Just like Scully.  
  
-------------------------------------------  
Part 9  
  
That night, Mulder fell into a very deep slumber. His dreams had also been just as deep. The dream had went from a literal replay of his toying with the music box, then a replay of Scully's birthday party exactly as he dreamt it. But the last part of the dream was what shocked him the most.  
*************  
  
The black music box opened up to reveal Scully in her usual attire, a dark suit and four inch heels. The music from the box played, though it seemed to almost take shape in a sense. Mulder could hear the music, but he almost *felt* the presence of the music. Scully had a much different presence in his mind; she stayed in her spot and started to speak.  
  
"Mulder, it's me," she started in a soft voice. Everything about her was the same, none of her characteristics had changed, such as the way she brushed her bright red hair out of her face or way she said "Mulder, it's me." The receiver of this message felt a bit of relief, nothing about her was different.  
  
"I know that this has been hard on you. I know that I haven't been there, and I'm not really here to say goodbye... but then I am. It's just goodbye to everyday encounters. I'll always be here, Mulder. No matter what, I'll always be here in some way, shape, or form. Whether it had be your *theories*..." she paused and smiled, which brought a smile to Mulder's face. "... or anything else. I'll be here, always."  
  
With that, the black music box seemed to appear in Scully's outstretched arms. The music was pouring from the box, holding the same presence it had before.  
***********  
  
That was the last image in Mulder's mind before he was succumbed to the buzzing of his alarm clock. He was thankful for that, there hadn't been any fade-aways before he awoke. The beautiful picture of Scully would remain in his mind forever.  
  
He looked at his table and saw the music box. Mulder looked at it a while longer, his thoughts tag-teaming back and forth between his two dreams, both involving Scully. Finally, he emerged from his couch, and got ready to head for the bathroom to get ready for work. The FBI agent took one more look at the black box sitting on his coffee table, and decided to open it.   
  
The music poured out of the box, having the presence that it did in his dream. While the music played, Mulder, walked to his bathroom, looking back at the box.  
  
Smiling.  
  
THE END  
************** 


End file.
